


Like Flying

by haku23



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Logan Legacy #5 Johnny gets a visit from an old friend. Slight AU, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Flying

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty obsessed with the idea of WHAT IF they became friends, maybe occasional smooching friends since I read Daken: Dark Wolverine so I wrote a whole fanfiction about it. Of course I wrote this right after I read LL#5 so as such anything that has jossed it was out of my hands.

The house is never really silent; so many people living under one roof doesn’t leave much time for that but it’s 3am and the noise level is soft enough that he easily hears the rapping on his window. Pete, probably. Good thing he doesn’t share this room with anyone or his visits might become a problem but he rolls over and stretches for the window. His hands move independently from his brain-no need to open his eyes he’s done it so much-and pull away the curtain.  

 

“Pete?”

 

“Not even close, Johnny.”

 

The voice rolls in along with the cool air and both have him straightening up in bed, eyes open and heart hammering.

 

“ _Daken_?”

 

“May I come in?”

 

The window squeaks when he pulls it up all the way, “like I have a choice.”

 

“You could say no,” Daken replies like that would ever be an option. He climbs in the window like he’s done this before, many times.  

 

He _could_ say no. But the sudden appearance of him has sent him reeling, like being knocked through the air and trying to find what up and down is again. He wears something close to Wolverine’s uniform except in grey with accents of blue. He’s whole and alive and Johnny wants to sputter out a question of how but there’s never a how or why with people like them, just an “is”.

 

“Not really,” he says instead. The Four aren’t exactly known for turning people away who need help and if Daken is here it means he needs help. Must not have gotten the memo that Johnny can barely help himself anymore. “What is it?”

 

“My father is dead.”

 

“I,” he isn’t sure if he’s looking for congratulations or condolences. But he hadn’t killed Wolverine when he had the chance. The whole thing has “it’s complicated” written all over it, “I’m sorry. I heard.”

 

“I buried him beside my mother.”

 

“Why’re you telling me this?” it sounds harsher than he normally wants to be but he still can’t muster up enough anger to really put the venom that should be in there into his words. It’s not like he’d just up and disappeared yesterday, after all.

 

“Who else is there?” his voice lacks any sort of intonation, he’s like a robot with the colour scheme to match and Johnny shifts over so that he can properly sit down, boots and all.

 

Daken is quiet beside him like he's thinking and he doesn't know whether he should ask or if the silence will eventually lead to an outburst. He doubts it. Daken holds things close to his chest, giving only a peek before revealing it. It should frustrate him but he thinks of himself and of Sue and any of them who wear masks or don’t-they suffer in silence and it's really no wonder how so many of them turn to drinking or other vices.   
  
He wiggles closer, out of the warmth from where he's been lying and into the cool spot between their bodies. They don't talk and Johnny doesn't move any closer. This not moving frustrates him, a perpetual by the seat of his pants planner, because the last thing he wants is for Daken to think he's looking for something instead of offering the comfort of human closeness. He thinks, Reed told him about his speech about family, that maybe Daken doesn't know what that is without concealed motives. That maybe he's never just had a hug that’s just that, maybe never even anything close to a friend. But then Daken could probably get whatever he wants from most people so maybe Johnny is just wanting him to be more innocent, more saveable than he is.   
  
"You know me and Sue," he starts and doesn't know how to end it. He and Sue have one another and even she doesn't know about the heat that Daken wakes up in him, hidden until he's within reach. He and Sue haven’t had parents, real parents in years but they have each other and Ben and Reed and the kids. He doesn't know if Daken has anyone and it makes him realize how little he does know.   
  
"Look, Daken," he starts again, tries to spark some sort of dialogue that isn't 'who the hell are you?'  "Why'd you come here?"   
  
"I knew that you would let me in."   
  
"It's been more than just a couple days, you jerk, I could've left you out there," he says, already falling into old habits and forgiving him for running off, for using him, for tapping on his window at 3am out of the blue. He's a sucker but at least he's never told himself otherwise.   
  
"But you didn’t."   
  
"I know, I'm a sucker."   
  
"Yes."  
  
The truth stings even though he admits it to himself all the time but it's like peroxide on a wound. It has to hurt to get the infection out.    
  
"Jeez, say it like it is why don’t you," he grumbles, rolling onto his side so that he can look at him instead of the ceiling and the lines he's counted too many times.   
  
"You're naive and you don't know when to give up. You let people like me use you and then take them back because you're afraid of what it might mean if you don't."   
  
He frowns, "come on, Daken, what're you trying to do?"   
  
"You're a good man."   
  
"Not that good," he thinks of people he couldn't save, of just for a second reveling in the power that Galactus gave him as his herald. It feels like forever since then-since knowing anything and everything, since he’s been useful in more than a “you’ll _always_ be a part of the team” kind of way.  
  
"Only good men say that."   
  
"You didn’t come here to tell me I'm a good man, what're you really here for?" He thinks maybe he knows but then, he thinks he might know how quantum physics works and he doesn't really.   
  
"A respite."   
  
"Okay, I can do that."   
  
It's strange just holding him like he's held others before without feeling a surge of a need to take it further.  Daken feels different in his arms than a girl and it isn't just the lack of breasts. He feels hard and he doesn’t fit as easily under his chin but he sighs like this is relaxing and Johnny finds that as satisfying as he does with any of the other people he’s had in bed with him. "Safe" it says and he likes being that even if he liked jumping off of buildings and bursting into flames just as much.   
  
Daken smells like nothing-it strikes him as odd for some reason-and his hair pokes him in the eye a couple times before he noses it out of the way.   
  
"Are you gonna be here in the morning?"   
  
Daken doesn't say anything for a while and Johnny thinks with how he breathes slow and even that he's asleep until he speaks. "Maybe."   
  
"You can say no, you know."   
  
He huffs a laugh, "I don't need the consent is sexy speech, Johnny."   
  
"It's important."   
  
"Maybe."   
  
He accepts the maybe because he recognizes that's as close to an answer as he's going to get. It excites him somehow, not knowing if he'll wake up alone or not at the same time that it hurts, but he can't jump off buildings anymore unless he wants to be a pancake and that hurts more.   
  
He falls asleep easily after that, one arm crushed under his pillow and his other curled around Daken's hip.   
  
****   
  
The realization that he's alone makes his heart twist in his chest for a minute or five but it dulls once he goes to get dressed and sees wet towels hanging on the rod. A near miss.   
  
***  
  
Daken doesn't come the next night or the night after. It's a week and a half before he shows up again, bloody and breathing hard.   
  
"It's not my blood," he says and strips off the garment he's wearing.   
  
"Then whose is it?"   
  
Years ago he wouldn't have asked but now he needs to know. Needs to know that the faith he put in him-he could have killed them all but didn’t that has to mean something-isn’t all misplaced. He needs to look over the edge of the cliff and feel his toes dangle in open air.

  
"I didn’t ask his name."   
  
"What are you doing? There are conditions to this you know. I'm not gonna. Just. Is he dead?" His hand is wrapped around Daken's arm like he can keep him here.   
  
"I would imagine so."   
  
Johnny thinks of a family without a father, without a son, uncle, nephew, cousin. He wonders if Daken thinks of that too. Probably not, maybe he wouldn't do it if he did. His hand slips from his bicep and rests at his side. Is he really making the right decision? Can he really be saved? Does he even want to be? Can _Johnny_ save him?   
  
Daken smells like blood and his eyes are hard, defiant when he pulls off his mask, "what are the conditions?"  
  
"No more killing," He might as well ask for the moon, he knows, killing came easy to Wolverine too. "You're not an animal."   
  
"No," he steps into Johnny's space, arm circling his waist, "I'm not. But I can't promise that."   
  
His head gets fuzzy with him this close. He wonders if he can control the pheromones, if that's what this is or if it's just Johnny grasping at anything but the real reason his hands want to grab him and never let go.   
  
"Why not?"  
  
He kisses him. It should be unexpected but it isn't and he surges to meet it. He leans back, waits for Johnny to chase his mouth with his own and tightens his grip on his waist. When he pulls away again Johnny is breathless like Daken has stolen the breath out of his lungs, but not ashamed.

   
"It's very hard to stop once you start," Daken says and wraps his hand around Johnny's throat.   
  
His heart jumps and Daken smiles. He doesn't throttle him like his brain, even if it's just the tiniest part, thinks he will. He just rests his hand there lightly, thumb pressed against his pulse.   
  
"You could stop if you tried. X-23-"  
  
"Laura."   
  
"Laura is. She doesn't kill."   
  
He expects it to be a sore spot, like Logan, but Daken shakes his head instead.  
  
"Not unless she has to."   
  
"If she can do it you can."   
  
"She was only raised to be a killer," his hand squeezes harder and Johnny breathes out slowly.   
  
"People aren't born good, Daken."   
  
"What is good?"  
  
A philosophical question isn't quite what he expects but he thinks of Reed and pulls Daken's hand away, "what we do is all that matters, not how we were born."   
  
It must not be the answer he wants-must be easier to kill when you think killer is your natural state-because when he kisses him again he bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed. He swallows the noise Johnny makes and yanks him hard against him.   
  
He should probably protest. But he doesn't. Not when Daken pushes his shirt up and off and not when he feels the prick of claws against his skin. They don't break the skin even though without the flames his skin is as vulnerable as any other person's and the claws are sharp.   
  
"Fuck me," he growls and Johnny startles at that. He almost stabs himself on the claws at his back but they retract quickly.   
  
"Is this supposed to be proof that you’re not good? Because it's not working."   
  
And then it's Daken who stops, raising an eyebrow, "I'm too old for sexuality related crises, Johnny."   
  
"I'm not stupid, you're trying to prove something to me or yourself and I'm not. I'm not being part of that."   
  
It takes more will than it should to say that. Still has his morals even if he has no powers. Can’t let this go any further tonight.  
  
"Another condition? No sex?"   
  
"Not if it's to get something."  
  
Daken rolls his eyes, "what other use is there?"  
  
"Love?" He wants to grab him and shake him. Or at least grab whoever taught him everything and shake _them_ _._    
  
"Sweet."   
  
"Come on, you expect me to believe all these years and you've never fallen in love?" He grins like how he does when Sue asks him how he's doing or when paparazzi ask him a stupid question.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Seriously? No girl back home? A guy out there somewhere telling his grand kids about the guy with the claws?"   
  
"Drop it."   
  
"I didn’t mean it like-"  
  
"Love is a fairy tale, Johnny, something people make up to sell cards and expensive gifts," He steps away and gathers his clothing, "a nice story to justify why mommy and daddy are splitting up."   
  
"So how come you didn’t kill any of us? Reed, Logan, me-you had us and you let us go."  
  
"Killing you would have been disadvantageous."   
  
"Here I thought it was because you like me," he pretends to be put out and Daken doesn't say anything. He gathers his things and goes, out the window again like some sort of messed up version of Peter Pan.   
  
He swears, slams his palm against the wall and goes back to bed. If he's lucky he hasn't messed it all up but Johnny doesn’t think his luck is in any way changing.   
  
***  
  
He's gone a month, then two and Johnny resigns himself to sleeping alone, his vacation from a cold bed officially over. He goes out and gets a girl but sends her home when guilt suddenly hits him hard. Not that he's anything to Daken. Daken who talks about family and love like they’re something shameful. Anything that comes out of this, any brief spark or small inferno won’t last. Deception smothers affection and Daken won’t hesitate to break things off if Johnny takes it too far. He waits anyway.   
  
It's late and he shivers in bed. He still hasn't gotten used to doing that. It fits like a pair of too small jeans.   
  
"I would have knocked," Daken says, silhouetted in the open window. It's 5am and he has to be at the Baxter building to watch the kids by 8.   
  
"Where were you?"    
  
"Tying up loose ends."   
  
"Killing people."   
  
Daken laughs, settles onto the bed like he owns it, "selling some property."   
  
"Oh."  
  
"You're cold," his hands on Johnny's shoulder aren't much better.   
  
"If you got here earlier I wouldn't be."  
  
"Mm."   
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He rolls over to face him, always wanting to face him because he thinks, stupidly, that he’ll be able to tell if things have changed by looking at him and Daken shrugs.   
  
"Whatever you'd like it to. Why did you send that girl home?"   
  
Love, maybe. No. He doesn't know. "How'd you know?"  
  
"How do you think?"   
  
"Gross."   
  
"You could at least wash the sheets. I might get jealous," this contrasts so much from the first night that he almost doesn't reply.   
  
"No you wouldn't."   
  
"No. You shouldn't fall in love with me, Johnny."  
  
He laughs, stupid sounding and he wants to kick himself, "I'm not."  
  
"Then stop waiting for me."   
  
"Who says I'm waiting for you? Maybe I'm hoping someone'll fly me off to never land."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, Johnny, I mean it."   
  
"Come on, man, you're that full of yourself?" He laughs, terribly, again and Daken kisses him probably to shut him up. 

"Don't.”  
  
"I can't help it."  
  
Daken sighs, "yes you can."   
  
"It's hard to stop once you start," he says. Daken doesn't push him away when he pulls him against his chest and he doesn't move to do anything else.   
  
"You could stop if you tried," he replies instead and Johnny thinks that no he can't. Loving, any kind of loving, isn’t like killing. It isn't a means to an end or an itch that needs scratching, it's a thrill like jumping into the deep end of a dark pool and not being able to see where water begins and ends. It’s like flying.   
  
"I like you," he grins, soaring on the feeling of freedom that comes from admitting it outloud in no uncertain terms.   
  
Daken sighs, content maybe, and kisses him. He’s warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time I'll write happy Johnny because sad Johnny is too sad.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
